


If you dance with me darling, if you take me home… Will we talk in the morning?

by kaleidoscopeminds



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - British, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drinking, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, I mean its a bar au but you know... there's lots of it in here, M/M, don't question it he just is, i can't believe that no one's used that tag before, lawyer ashton irwin, luke is a bit of a slut and knows it, meeting in a bar type cliches, sketty luke hemmings, warnings for excessive use of british slang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26064169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidoscopeminds/pseuds/kaleidoscopeminds
Summary: Luke is drunk, but nicely so, he thinks, everything slightly softer around the edges, lights a little brighter and laughs a little louder. Everyone and everything in the world would be slightly better if they were this level of tipsy all the time, he muses to himself as he waits for his drinks, leaning his chin in his hand on the bar where he’s wedged himself between two other people that were definitely waiting before him, but don’t have Luke’s height or smile.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54





	If you dance with me darling, if you take me home… Will we talk in the morning?

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first ever fic!!!! Originally posted on my [tumblr](kaleidoscopeminds.tumblr.com) (come chat with me over there!!) this is a very silly thing that came from me listening to Sam Fender a few too many times. Huge thank yous to bella and helen who edited this for me to make it legible, (imagine watching 2 of the best fic writers in the fandom live-editing your first fic... horribly stressful but I owe them my life) and also for their kind words. Also a big thank you to the club who are the sole reason I started writing... love you babes
> 
> Title and premise from Will We Talk? By Sam Fender (absolute banger)

Luke is drunk, but nicely so, he thinks, everything slightly softer around the edges, lights a little brighter and laughs a little louder. Everyone and everything in the world would be slightly better if they were this level of tipsy all the time, he muses to himself as he waits for his drinks, leaning his chin in his hand on the bar where he’s wedged himself between two other people that were definitely waiting before him, but don’t have Luke’s height or smile. 

He winks at the bargirl and scoops up the two shots she’s just poured him, with the lime wedges carefully balanced on top, before sliding his gangly limbs back through the group of people behind him towards where Michael is sat in the corner of the booth, warily eyeing what Luke is attempting to conceal in his grip.

“Ugh, Luke, I hate you,” Michael groans, glaring at the shot that’s just been placed in front of him as if he can will it away with pure irritation.

Luke laughs and tips back his own shot, sucking on his lime and tossing it back on the table with a flourish. He doesn’t bother waiting for them to do it together because he knows Michael will complain about it for at least another minute and he doesn’t have the patience. “No you don’t,” he insists, nudging the shot closer to Michael’s hand. “You need to live a little.”

Luke knows that strictly speaking, Michael doesn’t like coming out to clubs with him, but also strictly speaking this isn’t a club, more of a bar which has a dance floor, which was how he’d pitched it to him in the pub about an hour previously.

“You bought me fucking tequila,” Michael pouts at him, poking the shot glass with distaste, and Luke almost feels sorry for him, except he doesn’t because he loves tequila.

“I love tequila though.” Luke beams back at him and makes an encouraging motion. Luke loves being drunk but he hates being the only one drunk even more so; it’s no fun when everyone can remember the stupid shit you did but you can’t. He wonders, not for the first time, whether this might be inherently linked to his own insecurities, but decides not to entertain that thought for too long. It’s a Friday night, after all.

“You’re the shittest friend I’ve ever had the misfortune of having,” Michael grumps before tipping his own shot back and grimacing.

Luke cheers and hands over the beer he left on the table when he disappeared to go and get the shots earlier, for Michael to chase.

“Didn’t even have the decency to buy me an actual drink.” Michael wrinkles his nose at the beer and shakes his head before sliding it back towards Luke.

“I’ll buy you a vodka lem if you stop complaining about being here for five minutes,” Luke hedges. Fuck knows if he’s got enough money on his card to fulfil that promise but he thinks he knows Michael well enough that his precious overdraft remains will be safe. He’s lived with the bloke for close to three years and in the whole time Luke’s known him he’s never gotten through an evening without getting an earful of just what a shit time Michael’s having. 

Michael frowns again and folds his arms in front of him, but Luke can tell that he’s getting drunker, a slightly vacant look that’s quintessential tipsy Michael, which means that it’s only a matter of time before Luke will be able to drag him onto the dance floor with him without too much trouble. 

“Why don’t you bully your other friends to come out with you instead,” Michael sulks. “That’s not a complaint by the way,” he adds quickly. 

“Because you’re my favourite and I love you?” Luke smiles winningly back at him. It’s not even a lie. Michael, for all his complaining, is honestly the best friend Luke has ever had in his twenty-one years of life, the only person Luke considered living with for his final year. They’d started off a little rocky in first year when they’d got placed in flats opposite each other in halls; Luke thought Michael was antisocial and boring, often staying in his room and glaring at Luke across the table at pre-drinks when he actually decided to come out with them. Michael had since revealed to Luke that initially he thought Luke was a slut (partially true), attention seeking (also partially true) and was the person stealing his milk (Luke will deny this one until his dying breath). But a shared love of FIFA, supernoodles and both men and women would cement their friendship in due course.

“I’m not sure what your issue is anyway, Mikey, you had absolutely no other plans for tonight, your assignment’s not due until Wednesday which is bloody ages and we’re celebrating!” Luke raises his pint and obnoxiously clinks it against Michael’s empty glass.

“Celebrating what, exactly?” Michael crosses his arms and rests his head back against the seat.

“Life, our friendship, the fact there’s only two weeks left of first term?” Luke suggests, scanning the room to see if there are enough people dancing for them to get up soon. At the lack of snarky response from Michael he looks back at him, but Michael’s eyes are firmly fixed on a space to the left of them back towards the bar. He’s also got an even more unfocused look in his eyes which means one thing.

“You’ve just seen someone fit haven’t you?” Luke grins and turns to follow Michael’s eye-line.

He peers over towards where Michael is gawking and sees who he’s looking at. A tall man in tight black jeans, a black and white stripy shirt with a few buttons opened and black boots is smiling at something another man with his back to the two of them has said. He can’t see what the other man looks like, just his slightly curly brown hair and the wide set of his shoulders in a nice looking leather jacket. Luke can understand Michael’s interest; the man they can see has hair that’s short on the sides and softly curling on top, deep brown eyes and a very nice looking mouth. He’s also vaguely familiar. 

“I think I know him from somewhere,” Luke puzzles, tapping his rings on the glass in his hands.

Michael’s eyes snap back to Luke’s immediately. “Please don’t tell me you fucked him,” he says suspiciously. “Honestly, every fucking time, Luke. You have to leave some people for the rest of us.” 

Luke makes a faint noise of outrage and tries to look offended at Michael’s assumption. “Actually, no. He’s in my stats module, I think?”

Michael frowns at Luke. “And you failed to tell me, your closest ever friend, that you had someone as fit as him in your presence for an hour every Tuesday?”

Luke shrugs, although he does feel a bit bad about it now. This guy is exactly Michael’s type, with tattoos peeking out from both the collar and sleeves of his shirt; he’s not sure why he’s never considered it before.

“Calum!” Luke exclaims, the name on the tip of his tongue finally popping into his head. He looks up just to see Calum looking back at him quizzically from the bar, Luke’s exclamation drawing his attention.

“For fuck’s sake, Luke!” Michael squeaks from next to him, eyes going wide and attempting to look anywhere else than where he’d been staring Calum up and down. 

Luke waves awkwardly at Calum, trying to appear like getting his attention was the intention the whole time, and Calum shrugs, says something to the other man that Luke can’t quite make out and starts to walk over to their table.

“Uh, so looks like you might get a chance to speak to him, if that makes up for it?” Luke looks at Michael out the corner of his eye, who appears to now be having an internal breakdown, fiddling incessantly with his collar and fringe.

“Fuck my fucking life fuck why did I put this fucking awful shirt on why didn’t I put my contacts in or take this hat off I can’t now my hair always looks dogshit I fucking hate this and I fucking hate you Luke,” Michael mutters out of the corner of his mouth as Calum approaches their table.

“Don’t be weird, Mikey,” Luke mutters back. “You look great, that jacket looks fit, and you know you’re sexy in glasses.” Luke knows that ego boosting is the best way to go with Michael, to flatter him enough into confidence.

“Hi, mate.” Calum says, smiling at Luke.

Luke returns the smile. “You alright?” He gestures to Michael. “This is my housemate Michael, Michael this is Calum, he’s in my stats module.”

“Fucking failing that module, you mean,” Calum laughs, and turns to Michael. “Hi.” Luke thinks with some surprise that he sounds shy, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head. “What do you study?” he asks.

“Um, geography… don’t laugh,” Michael mutters nervously. “What about you?”

Calum honest to God giggles, and Luke is both aghast and slightly impressed at how quickly Michael seems to have this guy falling over himself whilst exhibiting possibly the worst flirting technique he’s ever seen.

Before Calum can respond, a loud and annoyed cough comes from behind him, and the man that Luke could only see the back of previously appears, holding two pints in his hands and rolling his eyes. And holy shit, Luke thinks to himself; he might be best looking guy Luke’s ever seen, with hazel eyes, a strong jawline, and an obvious dimple in his chin, together with a single curl that’s falling artfully onto his forehead, arms that are straining against the sleeves of the leather biker jacket he has on, and a black and white chessboard shirt undone low enough for Luke to see a hint of chest hair. His brain short-circuits for a second as he takes in the vision in front of him, and he almost misses what the gorgeous man says.

“Oi, Cal, what the fuck, mate.” he says, passing Calum a beer with what Luke faintly notices as the nicest hands he’s ever seen on a human before, with the longest fingers… Luke drags his eyes back to the mystery guy’s face to catch the last of what he’s saying. “You left me to buy another round? You do know what rounds mean, right?”

“Oh, sorry Ash,” Calum says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “This is Luke — he’s in my stats module — and this is, erm, Michael. He’s Luke’s housemate but we only just met.” He says the last part in a rush, and blushes a bit.

The man — “Ash” — flicks his eyes between Michael and Calum, and grins delightedly. “Oh, I see.” 

Calum blushes even harder, but ploughs on regardless. “Luke, Michael, this is my friend Ashton. We used to work together until this guy graduated and got himself a proper job.” 

Ashton raises a hand and salutes them before meeting Luke’s eyes, and when he does, his grin gets even bigger. Luke sees him briefly flick his eyes over Luke’s face and the half of his body which is visible above the table before turning to Calum. “Shall we sit for a bit then, mate, or were you going to hover there starstruck for a bit longer?”

Calum chokes on nothing and shakes his head before sliding into the booth next Michael,“If you guys don’t mind?” he asks softly. Luke doesn’t bother responding; he knows the question isn’t being directed at him.

“Not at all,” Michael replies faintly, and Luke resists the urge to bang his head against the table. He settles for grimacing into his pint instead and hears Ashton huff air out of his nose in amusement as he drops into the space next to Luke.

Luke decides to ignore the decidedly cutesy scene happening in front of him in favour of looking at Ashton close up. A good decision all in all, Luke decides, looking at Ashton’s profile; his eyes crinkle delightfully as he laughs, the dimple on his chin becomes even more pronounced. Ashton turns his head and catches Luke staring at him, and Luke blushes slightly, but maintains eye contact.

“Hi, Luke from Calum’s stats module,” Ashton smirks. “So, are you also attempting to become a physicist?” 

Luke laughs lightly. “No, a mathematician as it happens.” 

Ashton pulls a face, “That’s even worse. What’s with you people and terrible degree choices?”

Luke laughs again, “Alright fuck off. Let me guess what you studied - history or something else soft?”

“You STEM people are all the same, huge superiority complex. But no, not history,” Ashton laughs, shaking his head.

“Okay let me try again, English Lit?” Luke asks, sniggering.

Ashton playfully punches Luke’s shoulder. “No, law actually. I’ve just started my training contract.” 

Luke raises his eyebrows. “Wow Calum wasn’t kidding when he said proper job was he? Where did you work with him before?”

“Oh, the uni bar.” Ashton takes a sip of his pint. “It’s how we met.”

“Bit of a contrast to what you do now, isn’t it?” Luke asks.

“Well, yes,” Ashton laughs. “But working at the bar was fun, and I got a best friend out of it, so all in all pretty good.”

“That’s cute,” Luke teases, turning his head to look back at Calum, who is now whispering something in Michael’s ear. Michael turns beet red and giggles, and Luke turns back to Ashton and pulls a disgusted face.

Ashton snorts into his glass and then turns back to Luke.“You want a drink?” he asks with a smile, gesturing at Luke’s empty glass.

“Absolutely,” Luke answers eagerly then internally bashes himself on the head — where the fuck is his game? Flew right out the fucking window along with all his dignity the second Ashton had started talking to him, that’s where.

Luke gets to his feet, and Ashton unabashedly gives him an appreciative look up and down. Luke feels his cheeks warm, but raises his eyebrows almost defiantly back at him.

“Hm. Tall, too,” is all Ashton says before getting to his own feet and collecting the empty glasses off the table to take with him to the bar. Of course he’s that kind of guy, Luke thinks to himself, shaking his head. Not only is he possibly the best looking man Luke’s ever had the good fortune of meeting, but he’s considerate, too? Luke thinks his slightly too drunk brain might explode.

“Two words. Vodka. Lem.” Michael doesn’t even bother looking away from where he’s participating in what Luke thinks is the softest staring match he’s ever seen, just taps the table for emphasis.

Luke puts his middle finger up at Michael before realising that he won’t even see it, too absorbed in the way Calum’s passing his pint from hand to hand, then sighs and digs around in his pocket to make sure he still has his wallet before meeting Ashton’s quizzical look as they head back towards the bar.

“I owe him a drink,” Luke says by way of explanation. “Even though I bought him a tequila not fifteen minutes ago.”

Ashton laughs freely, tipping his head backwards, and Luke is momentarily distracted by what is frankly a fucking delightful sound. “There’s no way I’m buying Cal another one, the way he’s going he’s going to be drinking that same pint for the next five years.” 

Luke notices absently on the walk over to the bar that Ashton, although tall, is definitely a couple of inches smaller than him, which he inexplicably enjoys a lot and muses on what it would be like to tip the other man’s head up towards his so they could kiss comfortably. He’s also thinking about what he would look like underneath him, but that’s a thought for later on he reasons, worming his way to the front of the bar again.

“Pint of Carlsberg and a vodka lemonade please.” Luke smiles at the bar girl when, again, he gets her attention almost instantaneously.

“Double or single?” she asks.

“Single,” he says firmly. If he’s going to get Michael a drink it will be for as little as possible.

“Carlsberg?” Ashton questions wrinkling his nose. “That’s shit beer.”

“Some of us don’t have jobs,” Luke snarks back, although secretly he agrees; Carlsberg is shit.

“At least let me buy you a San Miguel or something.” Ashton raises an eyebrow and pulls his wallet out. 

Luke is many things, but someone that turns down drinks from attractive men he is not, so he shrugs and makes a go ahead motion, smiling into the collar of his shirt as Ashton turns and waves the bar girl down again before she can start pulling the pint. 

“Can we make that two pints of San Miguel instead, please?” Ashton asks, smiling charmingly, “And make the single a double.”

Luke scoffs. “He doesn’t deserve that.” 

Ashton laughs again, and Luke vaguely thinks that in the last ten minutes it might have become his favourite sound ever. Fuck, he’s gone soft as shit. 

“Maybe I’m trying to impress your friends as well as you.” Ashton winks at him, and Luke laughs, a pleased smile coming to his face. Ashton’s flirting shamelessly with him now, and Luke thinks he might be in love.

“Are you actually not going to get Calum one?” Luke asks as Ashton pulls his card out of his wallet and taps it on the offered machine.

“No, cheeky fucker can pay for himself, I’ve already bought him three this evening.” Ashton shakes his head fondly. “I think he only likes coming out with me because I’m his singular friend with an actual job.”

“Seems logical to me,” Luke smirks. “The only reason anyone would want to spend time with you, probably.”

Ashton’s face spreads into a wide grin at Luke’s insult. “Oh really?” He steps closer to Luke, getting in his personal space, and looks up slightly to meet his eyes. Luke feels Ashton’s fingers ghost over his hand and up his arm, before slipping underneath his jacket and coming to rest lightly on his hip. “Do you not have any other reason to be around me?” His eyes darken as he cocks his head slightly, flicking down across Luke’s face to his lips, before coming back to his eyes. 

Luke thinks he might have forgotten how to breathe. Ashton’s hand seems to be burning through his shirt to his skin, and the way he’s looking at him makes him feel like he’s seconds away from bursting into flames. Or potentially just passing out on the spot.

“Um,” he gets out unintelligibly. “There might be other reasons.” Luke wants to die there and then. He‘s infamous for his flirting prowess, for fuck’s sake, and here he is acting like a fourteen-year-old around the first girl he fancied.

Ashton laughs lightly, stepping back but leaving his hand resting on the belt on Luke’s jeans. “That’s what I thought,” he says smugly.

Luke coughs and takes a swig of beer. “Did you want to go back and sit down?” He says, trying to change the subject, jerking his head back towards the booth.

“I’d rather not,” Ashton grimaces, looking at where Luke indicated, and Luke looks over to see what Ashton is looking at.

Which is Michael basically in Calum’s lap with his tongue in his mouth and Calum’s hands gripping his hips. Luke is equal parts disgusted and impressed.

“Fucking hell, we’ve been gone what, 5 minutes?” Luke asks, with a startled laugh. “This is not how Mikey normally acts.”

“I could say the same about Cal, but looks like we’re both wrong,” Ashton says with a chuckle. “Shall we drop Michael’s drink off with the lovers and go outside for a bit?”

Luke nods, dragging his eyes away from the disgusting level of PDA in front of him. Ashton gestures at him to go first, moving his hand to lightly rest at the small of his back, and Luke inhales sharply at the gentle pressure. He could really do with getting a grip on his body’s involuntary reactions to Ashton’s casual touch before he actually makes a fool of himself. He looks out the corner of his eye to see if Ashton’s noticed or not and sees the corner of his mouth quirked up. Fuck, that’ll be a yes then. 

Luke picks up both Michael’s drink and his own before heading back to the table, sliding the drink towards where Michael and Calum are entangled. Predictably, Michael doesn’t even come up for air to say thanks. Luke rolls his eyes and shrugs apologetically at Ashton before leading the way outside, snagging a bit of bench underneath a heat lamp and sitting down. 

“God, the fucking cheek of it.” Luke shakes his head. “He’s the one that always tells me that I move too fast with boys and that’s why I’m a serial dater and feel unfulfilled.” Luke takes a sip of his drink and rolls his eyes at Ashton to show that he’s joking, but Ashton is looking back at him intently.

“What does he mean by that?” he asks. It’s direct, but doesn’t feel rude.

“What do you think he means?” Luke snarks. “It means he thinks I’m a slag.” 

“I don’t think he does,” Ashton replies, frowning a little and taking a sip of his own beer.

“I mean why wouldn’t he? I am.” Luke’s not really sure where this moment of brutal introspection has come from, but he’s blaming the five pints and tequila shot in his system. Or maybe the warmth of the gold flecks in Ashton’s eyes. “I meet guys in bars or clubs, go home with them and then never speak to them again, that’s the definition of a slut isn’t it?”

“Promiscuity is a social construct,” Ashton says, shrugging. “Why does it matter?”

Luke frowns. “Well it does, doesn’t it?” 

“Does it matter to you?” Ashton probes again, tilting his head slightly.

“Uh, I don’t know?” Luke is perplexed by this line of questioning. He thinks for a moment whilst having another drink. “It matters to other people.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” Ashton winks at him and Luke laughs. “But that’s not what I asked.”

“A bit?” Luke starts hesitantly. God, he’s way too fucking drunk for this. “I mean it’s fun, but sometimes I’d just like…” he gestures vaguely, “a bit of morning chat.”

“Well I’m sure that can be arranged,” Ashton laughs. “From my experience this evening I think I’d like to listen to you a bit more.”

Luke is totally unprepared for this. Yes, Ashton is fucking fit and funny and ridiculously charming, but also he’s _sweet_. Luke thinks dimly that he honestly cannot remember the last time a boy that wasn’t Michael had been interested in what he had to say.

“I don’t normally do this kind of thing,” Luke says ruefully, watching Ashton sip his pint.

“What, pulling strangers in clubs?” Ashton snorts. “Isn’t that exactly what you were saying you normally do?” He teases, eyes twinkling, letting Luke know that he’s joking.

“No, that I’m familiar with, although I take great offence to you using my admission against me.” Luke flicks Ashton’s knee. “More like I don’t normally spill my guts to fit strangers in clubs.”

“I have that effect on people.” Ashton smiles wryly and picks up Luke’s hand, playing with his rings. Luke hopes to God that his palms aren’t clammy. 

“Are you always this fucking smug?” Luke grumps, scooching closer to Ashton until their shoulders knock together.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Ashton wiggles his eyebrows lewdly at Luke.

“And I’m meant to be the slut in this scenario?” Luke quips, putting his half-drunk glass down next to him and resting his hand on Ashton’s jean-clad thigh.

Ashton leans even closer to Luke. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” he breathes in Luke’s ear.

Luke slides his hand up to the back of Ashton’s neck and finally does what he’s been thinking about for the past hour, tipping Ashton’s head back slightly and pressing their mouths together in what is a surprisingly soft kiss.

Ashton pulls his head back an inch and Luke frowns. 

“Fucking finally,” Ashton murmurs into Luke’s mouth, before nipping at Luke’s bottom lip and sliding their mouths back together in what is decidedly a much dirtier kiss.

“So, are you taking me home then?” Luke asks cheekily after a couple of minutes, breathlessly resting his forehead against Ashton’s as the cool air and wisps of smoke blow around them.

“Only if we talk in the morning.” Ashton’s lips quirk into a grin and he tucks a piece of Luke’s hair behind his ear. “Come on, let’s go and find the lovebirds and tell them I’m taking you home.” He slides their fingers together and tugs a giggling Luke out of the smoking area

**Author's Note:**

> would love a cheeky comment, or come and talk to me on [tumblr](kaleidoscopeminds.tumblr.com)!


End file.
